


BoundFever - The Interrogation of Mackayla Lane

by Fossy



Category: Fever Series - Karen Marie Moning
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Interrogation, Magic, Submission, pri-ya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fossy/pseuds/Fossy
Summary: This story takes place during Feverborn, as chapter 5 becomes chapter 6. Mac has returned from the German Mountains from where they saved Christian. Heading for BB&B she is attached by a battalion of Guardians lead by the revenge seeking Brody O’Roark. She is hit several times by the bullets from their automatic weapons, and then the damnable Sinsar Dubh chooses that very moment to make her visible again …Just imagine if it hadn’t been Barrons that found her naked on the floor, but the Unseelie Prince, Cruce, free from his Ice Prison under the Abbey. If you are intrigued to know what happens next then please … read on.All Characters owned by Karen Marie Moning.First 6 lines courtesy of Feverborn by Karen Marie Moning
Relationships: Mac/V'lane/Cruce (it's complicated)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Lying Naked on the Floor

MAC

“… This is how I feel, I'm cold and I am shamed  
Lying naked on the floor …”

“Focus, Mac,” I muttered. The bullets were only my most immediate problem. I had a whole list of others, the least of which was discovering who’d ratted out all my secrets. 

My skin was already trying to close around the blade. With Unseelie flesh in me, I was healing even faster than I had before. I realised I had to keep slicing while I had the knife in there, moving the blade back and forth. It was curiously like operating on someone else’s body. I barely felt it. It took me two tries to get the bullet out of my thigh. Three to get the one in my arm out. 

Of course, that’s how he found me. Sprawled on the floor with a couple of chunks of misshapen metal nestled in the valley between my leg and hip, a switchblade in one hand, alcohol which I hadn’t had time to use in another, a feral look of triumph on my face. I might have even been laughing a little. 

Butt-ass naked.

When I looked up, I saw a beautiful face leering down at me … and it wasn’t Barrons!

“Surprised to see me Mackayla?” V’lane’s intonation was smug and his words mocking, but they were the last ones I heard as, with a flash of his hand, my world went black.

I'd drifted back into consciousness, aware of a blinding light and uncomfortable warmth. It took me a while to become fully aware but when I did, I discovered I was tied to a wooden chair, one of my own from BB&B. Fuck … 

My arms were crossed behind me, pulling my shoulders back and thrusting my breasts forward and my ankles were lashed to the rear legs of the chair, my knees to the front, so my legs were spread wide. My hair had been pulled back into a rough ponytail and I was still petunia-bare naked, save for the strand of pearls. 

A strand of pearls? What the fuck? I had been invisible for so long that I really could not recall putting them on, except now they were all that I wore, and the string was looped suggestively under my left breast. I suddenly felt mortified at the thought of how invasively V’lane must have handled my nude body to get me into this position!

I could see nothing but the glare of a single lamp hanging high on the wall in front of me. When I cracked my eyes open beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead from the sudden heat in this damn room. 

What the fuck was going on. I seemed to be alone. 

‘Help me. Barrrons where the fuck are you?’ words that I wanted to cry out but for now, playing my cards close to my exposed chest, I kept them inside my head … and then, as if beset by a tsunami of mental anguish, I remembered. 

Suddenly becoming visible again …

Being shot, several times, by Brody O’Roark’s Guardians ... The wounds healing quickly as I self-operated to remove the bullets … My totally naked body being humiliatingly discovered by V’lane … or was he Cruce?

Chicken or egg? … V’lane or Cruce? … Definitely Cruce.

Why was he here in BB&B? More to the point why wasn’t he here right now in front of me, where I could see him? And why wasn’t he still imprisoned in a cage of ice beneath Arlington Abbey, where the Unseelie King had placed him.

I'd already spent what seemed like an eternity struggling against the ropes that held me, but V’lane clearly knew what he was doing. I tried knocking the chair over but it appeared to be bolted to the floor – I had no chairs that were bolted to the floor. What had he done? 

Black Magic! Of course, V’lane or Cruce or who-the-fuck-ever, was now bursting with it. That’s why the King had caged him! But now he was here. Again … what-the-fuck?

By the time I finally acknowledged that much, I was well and truly stuck. My body gleamed with sweat as well as Red paint from the damage done to this place by that damn battalion of Guardians. I resigned myself to fantasising about disembowelling V’lane as soon as I got free. Did V’lane even have bowels? I shook my head to free it of where that thought might lead, and settled in to wait.

It wasn't long before I heard a door opening, and footsteps approaching. I squinted against the light, trying desperately to see who was there, hoping that it might just be … but it wasn’t, and then … I screamed in a typically Mac 1.0 kind of way as a jet of icy water hit me in the chest. It lasted for only a second but the cold knocked the wind out of me, leaving me gasping for air, and my nude body with less red paint splodges than before.

"Hello again, Mackayla." said a familiar voice. V’lane. That fucker. Who else.

"I'm sorry about all of this, really I am. I'd much prefer to just tie you down and fuck your ass like I did at the church, but I do need information from you first, and I suppose this will be entertaining in its own way."

"Go to hell V’lane, you monster, and leave my petunia out of this" I growled, "I won't tell you anything. You know that,” though what information he wanted from me I had no idea. But finding me with my sidhe-seer powers diminished from the Unseelie Flesh writhing around inside of me, and my spear still with Jada, V’lane had taken me down at the optimum moment.

The fucker just smiled at me. 

“You know that I’ll be found and then your petunia will be fucking toast you bastard.”

“My what?”

“Your ass, V’lane, or should I say Prince Cruce. And at least you’ve had the decency to show yourself this time, not like last time when raping me wasn’t enough for you, you had to be invisible to do it. You coward.”

Again, he smiled, and to be honest I knew I was on very shaky ground. 

“Yes Mackayla, you should say Prince Cruce, for that is who I am.”

“Except for half a million years, give or take a month or two, you weren’t!” I said this sentence without having any point in mind, and realised that I was babbling words to try and cover up my mounting fear.

This monster had loved me once. He took care of my home town and my parents when the walls fell … and he raped me ... at the church, with the others. And now I hated him, but in this condition with my sidhe-seer powers muted, I also had good reason to fear him.

I had no sentient powers right now, not to mention no clothes, and where Barrons was I had no idea. 

“Why aren’t you …”

“In a prison underneath the Abbey?” He finished off my sentence for me.

“I only allowed my incarceration to persist in order to humour the weak humans that reside there, oh and so that I could visit the sleeping Grand Mistress every night and seduce her in her dreams. Do you really think that vulnerable, malleable, sweet little Kat could hold me against my will?”

“But the Unseelie King put you there …”

Cruce smirked. “Mackayla, I devoured the contents of the book’s Black Magic. I intend to combine the Dark and the Light Courts and rule over the new Faery … even the King is now no match for me.” 

“What do you want Cruce? Tell me please and then let’s get this,” whatever this was going to be, “… over and done with.”

My words offered up far more confidence than my mind felt right now. Surely someone would miss me - they had to? Barrons would … and … and … who else? Fuck maybe no one would miss me …

“All I need is the remainder of the book and I will be all powerful! And you, Mackayla Lane, are the book!”

And there we had it. This was all about the book.

“Barrons will come for me … you know that right?” I was getting increasingly desperate.

Now he laughed out loud. “You think Barrons even knows his precious Mac is in my safe keeping? Do you think he would actually care if he did? He didn’t rush to your aid when we took you at the church, did he, huh?”

I closed my eyes. My mind a jumble of thoughts

“Look at this place Cruce, please … I need to …” I couldn’t avoid the desperate intonation infusing my words. I struggled against the ropes that were holding me, futilely and to no avail of course. “It’s a mess, I need to fix it … please let me fix it …” Lame and desperate words for a desperate situation.

More silence, just an inane grin on the face of this monster, the Unseelie Prince who was adept at masquerading as his Seelie equivalent whenever he needed or wanted to. A very dangerous Fae that I knew only too well.

It was then that I realised. The ultimate death-by-sex Fae was just a few feet from me, and with my sidhe-seer powers temporarily absent … yet I felt nothing. No overwhelming urge to beg for his cock, or …

He laughed. “You are wondering why you don’t feel sexual energy from me Mackayla. I know you are without your senses at this moment because of the Unseelie flesh inside you, and I know therefore that you would feel my energy if I so chose to engage you. But I do not choose to do that. This time Mackayla I have tuned my energies down. I want you to experience me without the anaesthetic of Pri-ya. I will have you again Mackayla Lane, and this time you will live every little detail with agonising awareness …”

Fuck! I felt like crying … but there was no way that Cruce was going to have the pleasure of seeing me like that!

“What do you want with me Cruce? I can’t give you the book … I wish I could, but …” I looked him in the eye, water still dripping from my breasts and hardened nipples. He said nothing. Instead he turned away and slowly removed his jacket, looking every inch the GQ Model, before rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for business. His actions allowed me time to think and ponder, but I only managed to ask myself more questions about how, what, why and what-the-fuck! 

I was startled out of my reverie by another blast of cold water, this time to my crotch. I gasped, reflexively trying to close my legs as V’lane played the stream of water up and down my slit, and then I shrieked in rage and pain as he focused it in on my clit. The fucker seemed to be blasting the jet from his fingers ... he had the black magic inside himself. He had consumed the dark side of the Sinsar Dubh!

"You bastaaaaaaard!" I managed to gasp out loud in an extended curse once the water had stopped. "You haven't even asked me anything. Are you just doing this for fun, you sick fuck?"

He stopped and stared at me and then laughed.

"Hmm, you're right. I am doing this for fun. We'll get to the questions later." He grinned, pointed his hand at me, and turned the water back on again, this time aiming for my nipples. I felt them harden into firm little points, the icy water both painful and slightly arousing as it washed over my breasts. When he stopped, I began to shiver, goose bumps growing on my skin, steam rising under the glare of the single lamp, the only light being offered in BB&B following the outrageous raid by the Guardians. I could tell by the lascivious grin on Cruce’s face that he enjoyed seeing the muscles in my back and belly, tight and trembling as they glistened.

I was breathing fast, anticipating the next jet of water, when the single lamplight was suddenly snapped off, disorienting me. I opened my eyes quickly but my vision was a mass of bright spots and I didn't see Cruce until his hand was already on my breast, kneading and tugging on it, tweaking my nipple. 

"You're so lovely, Mackayla. Beautiful Mac. I really should have had you more to myself when we took you at the church, instead of sharing you with the others. I should have been the one to break you, me alone, not alongside them …" he said, his hand trailing down my stomach. "It really is too bad that you there was no way for you to become the concubine … my concubine."

"All I am is down to you, and your King’s twisted fucking book …" I growled, trying to ignore his fingers sliding gently up and down the folds of my pussy. There was a tiny drop of moisture developing there and I was hoping he wouldn't notice. I couldn't bear for him to think that he was getting to me, because he wasn't. No way. No fucking way … except he was, and this time there was no Pri-ya conditioning, it was all down to him and his … ohhhhh fuck, ohhhhh my gosh.

"Oh Mackayla, or do you prefer Mac, or Ms Lane?" he smirked. 

"We both know that you can insult me as much as you like and it won't change anything. Keep right on telling me just how much of a monster I am, keep on pretending you hate me, but remember that I've got my fingers inside your body and I can feel how wet you are." He punctuated his words by thrusting one finger into my pussy and I moaned slightly, ashamed because he was right, it slid in easily …

"Fuck you." I managed to whisper, knowing as I said it that it was a lame response.

"That's it, Mackayla, just enjoy it." he said, ignoring my protest. "You see, although I have consumed the Dark Magic from the book … you have the complete tome, you ARE the book Mackayla and you need to tell me how I can take it from you, in its entirety.”

Despite his touch growing more distractingly insistent, my eyes widened.

“Oh yes, Mackayla, I don’t just want what you have, I need it … the book, you, everything …”

I tried not to groan, before mumbling quietly, “It’s … I can’t … I don’t know how … fuck you, Cruce, ohhhhhh please …” 

The Unseelie monster just laughed at me. 

Where was Barrons? Why had I chosen now to eat the Unseelie Flesh (because we couldn’t have rescued Christian and I’d be a bloody unhealed mess, still shot to pieces if I hadn’t) and why the fuck had this damn book decided that right now was the time for me to become visible again … Wait … was the book working in partnership with V’lane, or Cruce or whatever he wanted to be?

Crapola! Was that it?

Failing in my efforts to remain silent I moaned out loud, my head swimming as I tried to process his words through the persistent tide of pleasure emanating from my pussy. He'd switched to two fingers and was gently stroking them in and out, rubbing my clit with his thumb as he did so. I was dripping juices all over the chair, and my hips were bucking against his hand despite myself. I moaned in protest as he withdrew his fingers, lifting his hand up to my face and pressing them against my lips.

"Taste yourself, Mackayla. Taste the nectar that feeds Barrons, that will soon feed me,” he growled roughly, obviously turned on. I let him push the fingers into my mouth, fighting a moan of pleasure, and then I bit down as hard as I could, grinding my teeth in.

"Fuck!" he yelled, snatching his fingers back. I knew a fleeting moment of victory before he grabbed my hair tightly, yanking my head back, and began to slap my breasts, hard. I cried out in shock and pain, struggling against the ropes as the blows rained down again and again reddening the firm flesh of my chest.

"You're going to pay for that, Mackayla," he panted, aiming a pair of especially hard slaps to my left nipple. My vision had begun to return and in the very dim gloom that we had without the lamplight being on, I could see handprints forming on the pale skin of my breasts, my aureole swelling and darkening from the abuse. "I'm going to enjoy punishing you for that."

I could feel tears leaking from my eyes as he continued to beat me, the slap of hand on flesh and his ragged breathing the only sounds as I bit my lip against the moans and cries bubbling up inside me. I would not give him the satisfaction of manifesting my pain, I would not show him that he was winning. I was close to breaking down and crying out when he finally stopped, abruptly letting go of my hair. My breasts felt hot and swollen, the skin reddened all over, and I sagged in my bonds, panting.

Then, standing slightly back, far enough for me to see the thick erection bulging under his leather pants, he pointed his fingers at me yet again.

For a second, the cold water was soothing, but soon it just made things worse. I gritted my teeth as he sprayed short, icy blasts at first my right nipple, then my left, making them contract and pucker even more painfully each time. After a few rounds upon each nipple in turn, he walked up and took them in his hands, slowly tugging and twisting at the achingly stiff peaks. The combination of soreness and cold made them incredibly sensitive, and I could feel a helpless little whimper rising at the back of my throat.

No! I wasn't going to let him hear me whine like a beaten animal. As he released me, I was about to say something smart about the lengths he had to go to these days in order to get a girl, only to gasp as a blast of icy water filled my mouth.

Choking and sputtering, I tried to blink away the spray as the harsh lamplight snapped back on. "Ah-ah, Mackayla," he taunted. "If you're going to bite then you won't get to use your mouth for anything else." He began to run the tight, high-pressure stream back and forth across my breasts, and then dipped to torment my exposed pussy in a triangle that made my whole body tense and tremble. I clenched my fists, but kept my mouth shut … it was better than being drowned, but only just.

Just as I was mercifully starting to go numb, he manifested more of his damnable magic, and the water changed from icy to hot. I'm sure it wasn't any warmer than a normal shower, but against my chilled skin it burned like fire. I gasped and jerked in the chair, writhing as pins and needles danced over my sore breasts and dripping pussy.

"Interesting sensation, hmm?" he murmured as he turned off the jet, his fingers tips dripping like a hose end for a moment or two. Smiling his Supermodel smile at me, he ran a hand through the flowing lengths of his dark mane and walked up to fondle me yet again. 

This time he worked me more slowly, cupping my breasts and rolling the nipple between his fingers, prolonging the painful tingling. He began to flick the very tip with his sharpened fingernail, lightly, then harder and harder until I was jerking in the chair each time. The pain was always followed by a little rush of pleasure, and it travelled from my chest through my whole body. I couldn't believe how much reaction he could get from me just by stimulating one tiny cluster of nerves. There were tears of anger and shame gathering at the corners of my eyes, and I was actually grateful that they were hidden in the water still dripping down my face and body.

At last I felt Cruce move his hand to grab hold of the strand of pearls, tugging until the clasp broke and they slithered down my chest to land on the chair between my legs.

"These are quite lovely, Mackayla. Not your usual taste, but I think they suit you,” he said, and I began to wonder what he was going to do with them. I didn’t have to wonder for long.

"I had been planning to leave them on you, as a sort of decoration, but I think you should wear them another way."

I felt him pick up the end of the strand and insert it (easily) into my pussy. I yelped as my soft folds opened for him and I attempted to buck my hips out of the way, but the ropes held me fast and I had to sit there impotently as he slowly, one by one, pushed the strand of pearls inside me. Every so often he would tug on it, pulling a few out, before pushing more in until finally I was stuffed full. Any movement of my hips caused the pearls inside me to shift and press against my soft tissue walls in a very distracting way.

I thought it couldn't get any worse until I saw him pull something small and silver from his pocket; a miniature vibrator, less than an inch long. Under normal circumstances I imagine I wouldn't have even felt it unless it was pressed directly against my clit, but Cruce had other plans. 

“You been buying accessories from Chester’s?” I quipped trying to appear, at least outwardly, as if he wasn’t getting to me.

Except he was … getting to me, all of me!

He reached down and began to push the evil little device into my already full pussy, opening me, sliding it between the pearls and making me gasp as the little round jewels stretched me wide. When it was securely nestled in among them, he magicked it on and withdrew his hand.

The sensation was maddening. The faint buzz was transmitted through the pearls as they moved, causing a constantly shifting stimulation that only got worse when I tried to move around. It wasn't enough to do anything more than tease me, but the way it kept changing gave me no chance to get used to it, and I could feel my slit starting to drip with juices again.

I was helpless and still shivering, bound tightly to the chair, my breasts sore and nipples swollen as I helplessly squirmed against the buzzing pearls, and at the mercy of this Unseelie death-by-sex, Prince. A few curls of my wet hair had escaped the ponytail and clung to my face, and I could barely maintain the tenuous grip on my own mind. When he pulled back the hood of my clit and pressed his thumb against it, I could do nothing but moan.

"I was going to let you orgasm, you know. I'd been planning to finish you off after you sucked my fingers, but now I've changed my mind. You don't get to cum, Mackayla Lane, no matter how much you beg. And you will beg. By the time I’m done with you, you'll fuck anything with a cock, just like last time at the church, and you'll enjoy it."

Fuck, no! I heard enough of his words to know that the bastard intended to abuse me more, rape me to get what he wants, or what he thinks he can get from me, and then turn me Pri-ya … again!

I wanted to beg and plead. I knew that I couldn’t become Pri-ya again, it would kill me this time … where the fuck is Barrons!

But begging and pleading would serve no purpose other than to feed Cruce’s over inflated ego and fuel his perverted desires.

He yanked his hand back from my clit, laughing as I unconsciously tried, in the unwitting throes of the craving he had stirred up inside me, to follow it. Cruce stood up looking down at me, a wide grin on his face.

"This is where the real fun starts, Mackayla."


	2. There Ain't No Way I'm Ever Gonna Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cruce has Mackayla Lane right where he wants her. Naked and at his mercy. But what is it he really wants? Is it the Sinsar Dubh that lies within Mac, or is it simply a lust-fuelled desire for Mac herself?

CHAPTER 2 – There Ain’t No Way I’m Ever Gonna Love You

CRUCE

“… I want you, I need you,   
but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you …”

I had loved her once. Or had I? I wanted her for sure, I needed her most definitely … but had I ever loved her? I thought I had when more than once Mackayla had agreed to have my mark inside her mouth.

Momentarily I reflected on the times I had placed it inside her. This touch of lips on lips and the small climactic shudders that my embrace had triggered from deep within the desire able Ms Lane.

Even now the little bitch had a way of making me miscalculate, I thought, examining my finger where she'd bitten down on it. She'd broken the skin … what was inside her; Unseelie? Did that make me a cannibal?

All of her life’s progress to date had been mismanaged. Mackayla Lane should be more than this. More than Barrons’ lap-bitch, more than a dogsbody, albeit a beautiful one, for the Nine.

I had allowed Barrons’ to take her when we she first set foot in Dublin, and I had done nothing to stop him from becoming her mentor. Even after we had ‘broken’ her, at the church, taken all of her, every last inch … or was that Mackayla taking every last inch from us … Barrons got the cream from the milk. I knew all about the time he spent fucking-the-Pri-ya-hell from her body!

But that would be the way no more. Today I would get from Mackayla Lane what I needed to break the King, defeat the Queen and merge the Dark with the Light. Then I would make Mackayla Pri-ya once more, and keep her chained deep in the underbelly of my throne room, where she can be permanently ready to satisfy my every whim.

That was what Mackayla Lane deserved and that was what Mackayla Lane was going to get!

The last time she was in that state, naked and exhausted outside the church, we allowed that wild, little runt to rescue her. We had even failed, afterwards, to take her from the Abbey cells. I wouldn't make a mistake like that again. 

This time, I was going to make sure Mackayla was completely broken and then some. She wasn't just going to give me the information I wanted, and with it the power to overthrow the Queen, whether the Unseelie King liked it or not, she was going to beg me to wrap her leash around my fist and take her with me wherever I went!

“The Wards …” Quiet words from my lovely captive shook me from my reverie.

“Huh,” my response was uncharacteristically inane.

“The Wards. He has wards around this place. You broke them … how …” 

I smiled at the inadequacy of her question.

“I have Dark Magic from the book inside me Ms Lane. Do you really think a simple Ward can hold me, even a Ward from one of the Nine?”

She didn’t answer. There was nothing more to say. Her fate was sealed. But I wanted her to know more for there was more to know.

Moving to where she was bound, seated, I knelt down and leaned into her. Once again, I moved my fingers to her hair and slicked it back away from her face.

“Not only do Wards not work on me, I now have the power to reverse them.”

Upon hearing my words Mackayla looked up at me, her expression seeming just that little bit more pained. 

“And so,” I continued, “Once I break a Ward, I can reverse its power and keep out the being that created it in the first place.” I paused a moment to let the meaning of my words sink in, and then added, “So, you know what that means Mackayla?”

Her slow nod confirmed as much.

“So, tell me then. Tell me what that means Ms Lane.”

“Go to hell you bastard!” 

I loved that she had fight left inside her. I laughed and provided the explanation for her. “It means that in precisely one hour, when Barrons is planning on returning here to seek you out, he will be able to get inside the building and walk almost right up to us … but then he will be stopped. The unseen force of the beautifully reversed Ward will hold him back but let him see everything that I do to you Mackayla. Do you think he will enjoy what he sees?”

Her cry of anguish was sound of beauty. A melody to my ears. An engorgement to the rigidity of my cock!

“He. Will. Kill. You.” She finally managed to utter in a whisper.

Her words deserved no answer.

Taking a moment out to gather my thoughts, I stood, took off my shirt and leaned against the wall. I saw Mackayla glance up at me. Even now bound and at my mercy, she could not resist my physical charms. I grinned down at her. 

“Stop. Now. Turn and walk away!” I furrowed my brow at the attempted assertion intoned into her words, a smile breaking out on my lips. Then the smile became a chuckle which turned quickly into a guffawing laugh.

“You’re trying to control me with Voice? Really? Oh Mackayla, and here’s me giving you credit for having a least a modicum of intelligence … but I can see now that you really are stupid.” 

Her head drooped. Her last card played. Rainbow Girl was about to be no more.

There was less than one hour before Barrons would return. How could I be so sure? King Roach is how. My insect man … the insidious Roach, and all the little crawly things, that made him whole. He, or was it ‘they’, could get me all of the information I needed, especially from inside the Headquarters of the Nine. It could get everywhere and anywhere. I knew where Barrons’ was and I knew when he would be back.

By then I would make sure the job was done properly so that the bastard could watch helplessly as I debased his girl further before his very eyes! Oh, the pleasure that would give me.

I looked up at my captive. The infamous Mackayla, wanted by a large part of Dublin, including the Guardians, was sitting still and quiet, the only movement from her was a slight heaving of her glorious body. 

I could see the gleam of droplets on her skin, both from the sweat on her brow and the mix of water and moisture dripping from her exposed slit. She’d had my little pearl contraption inside her for fifteen minutes now, and she'd long since given up struggling with the ropes or shouting out her insults. Right now Mackayla sat with her head resting on the back of the chair, eyes closed and lip bitten, exhausted but unable to keep herself from squirming as the tiny vibrator refused to give her a moment of rest.

She was an exquisite sight, even tousled like this; finding her naked and dazed had been the highlight of my day so far, although the thought of stripping her clothes from her before rendering her unconscious was a veritably pleasant thought.

Mackayla had the body of a high-class whore, slender and tightly muscled, with firmness in her cheeks and ass that gave her an irresistible appeal, an appeal she used like a weapon when she wanted something. Her breasts were high and rounded and still filled with the firmness of youth, and I'd already learned that they were exquisitely sensitive. 

Her skin was taut and smooth, and she'd clearly taken the trouble to get waxed recently. That was almost too bad. I would have enjoyed furthering her humiliation by doing it myself … something for the future maybe?

Time to give Ms Lane something new to think about.

Her head snapped up as I stepped back out of the shadows. She glared at me through the slits that her eyes had become.

“You’re as good as dead Fae!” She spoke with a determined menace that fuelled my desire.

I just smiled back at her and cupped my hand around my balls and the length of my constricted erection, in what was not my most refined responses ever ... which didn’t in any way stop me from enjoying it!

"I’m going to find you, make you harder you’ve ever been before, and then chop of your dick and your balls and feed them to your ass you fucking degenerate monster!” she responded to my appearance with an impressive display of venomous composure, that turned me on even more.

I laughed at her words. You just had to love this girl. Moving to her side I gripped her hair and twisted her head and neck towards me.

"The only thing you're going to do with my balls is beg to cup them while I fuck your mouth," I said pleasantly. "I may just allow it if you're a good whore for me. Want those pearls out of your body?"

She glared at me.

"It's a simple question, Mackayla. You have a string of pearls stuffed quite uncomfortably into your surprisingly tight little pussy. Would you like them removed?"

"Yes," she spat.

"What? Now come on Mackayla, I know Barrons has taught you better than that,” I grinned taunting her, “… what’s the magic word?" 

I could see her nostrils widen as she tried to weigh the discomfort I'd put her in against her unwillingness to acknowledge that I held the upper hand. 

"Yes …" she said finally, before adding "… please."

I bent down, grabbed the end of the string, and pulled them all out at once. Oh, the joy as she cried out. Humans huh, so fucking delightful!

“As someone once said to me Mackayla Lane, human women are not blinded by passion, they are clarified by it.”

She knew my meaning, as despite her predicament I knew that she felt my actions deep inside her body, between her thighs. Although I couldn’t feel emotion, not in the human way, other than through abstract facsimile, such a response helped to expand my heartfelt pallor, and with it amplify my desires thereby allowing me to sate them more thoroughly.

She couldn't help but squeal at that. I could only imagine the sensation of having the long string of tiny beads zip out of her aching, stretched pussy, the little vibrator and its never-ending battery popping out as well. She hunched over for a second, speechless and panting, her eyes wide as I grinned and wrapped the pearls around my fingers. They were sopping wet.

"Now what am I going to do with these?" I said. "Something of a crass trophy to put on display, maybe I can auction them off at Chester’s ..." I laughed … Chester’s was a place that I wasn’t about to visit and Ms Lane knew that.

"Maybe you should shove them up your petunia," she said sweetly, making me smile at the use of her own personal vernacular once more. How I loved her determination not to give up.

"Are you sure you want to put ideas like that into my head?" I said, and was rewarded when she blanched somewhat. "I think I've got a better idea. Let's stretch your legs a bit."

Walking behind her, I reached up and grabbed one of the ceiling chains, with its heavy-duty clip and pulled it down, then snapped it onto the rope keeping her arms together. 

“How handy this room is turning out to be Mackayla. Who would have thought that these heavy-duty pulley-chains could be put to such good use?” With a quick tug, I started the winch winding it slowly upwards.

“Fuck, fuckkkkk Cruce, I don’t have ceiling chains. Why the fuck would I have …”

Mackayla grunted and bent forward cutting her sentence short, her bound wrists rising up behind her and slowly forcing her into a painful strappado position. Her knees were still bound to the chair, but she found her ass followed by the rest of her body lifted up off the seat until she was stretched taut, even more helpless than she had been before.

“You have whatever I decide to put in here Mackayla Lane. I can magic whole lands, mountains, rivers, snow, ice … fire … so how hard do you think it is to create a few heavy-duty winch driven ceiling chains huh?” 

Sporting a self-satisfied, smugger-than-smug grin, I stepped in front of her once more to watch her gritting her teeth. I reached down to run my pearl-wrapped fingers back and forth over her dripping pussy.

“Those Pearls …” she said, “We each had a set bought for our sixteenth birthdays. Alina and I. We buried her with hers around her neck …”

I cocked my head, a furrowing of my brow indicating that I wasn’t sure why she was telling me this.

“And now you’re being fucked with yours!” I could tell from her expression that wasn’t the answer she had been expecting, but I wasn’t going to let her inane family ramblings distract me.

"As a matter of formality," I asked, "… are you ready to give me what I want. The Sinsar Dub, the great book from inside the ‘perfectly-shaped-ten-out-of-ten’ that doubles as your body?"

"I'm going to pull all your teeth out, one by one," she hissed, "and then chop of your dick, before I tell you anything!"

Oh, how I loved this girl.

"No, I didn't think so." I unwrapped the pearls and took one end of the string in each hand, then strung them under her raised body, before beginning to slowly saw them back and forth. Each pass dragged the slippery little beads between her cheeks, through her slit and up again, alternately tugging up and down on her already exposed clit hood. I can only imagine the very slight nature of the distraction my motion provided from the agony in her shoulders, but not the kind of diversion that Mackayla wanted. I watched her cheeks redden and her hips squirm; she had even less mobility now than she had sitting down, but that didn't stop her from trying. The pearls were becoming a little more slippery and shiny with each pass.

"Enjoying yourself, Mackayla? This is just a preview of what I've got planned for you..." I slowed my hands and drew them tightly upward, letting each little bump pass over her clit with deliciously slow pressure. I could hear the breath fluttering in her throat as she tried and failed to control it.

"After I break you," I said quietly, leaning in close to her ear, "I think I'm going to give you a new name. Is 'Pearl' a little too on-the-nose? Maybe 'Slut' or 'Pussy’ Nothing very sophisticated, I know, but all very whore-like and we can then consign Mackayla to the dim and distant past where she belongs!"

I drew my head back as she turned quickly and snapped her teeth where my nose had been, snarling. A trapped animal already. Good.

"You must be thirsty by now, considering how much your cunt is dripping," I said. "Would you like to earn a cool drink?"

I could see the sudden flicker of hope and fear in her eyes … I knew damn well that by now she'd be dying for a glass of water. "I can let you get yourself one, you know. I'll even untie your legs if you ask nicely. Can you remember how to ask nicely, Mackayla?"

"Please," she muttered under her breath.

"I couldn't quite hear that," I said, and gave the pearls one quick pull through her slit.

"Please untie my legs," she said, gasping a little.

"Please untie your legs, who?"

"Please untie my legs," she said, with an amazing effort at self-control, "you filthy fucking sadist asshole."

I nodded, then took one slippery pearl and pushed it into her ass.

She let out a grunt of surprise, her eyes flying wide open; she immediately clenched down, but her muscles were trembling with exhaustion, and I just pushed the second pearl harder until I forced it in as well.

Then a third. Then a fourth.

"You should be grateful you get so wet," I said. "This is much easier than I expected." A fifth. Mackayla was fighting to contain a helpless squeal with each one, I could tell, and her chest and face were flushed bright pink with humiliation.

I paused before the sixth one. "I'm going to give you a choice, Mackayla. I don't like how sharp your little teeth are, or how willing you are to use them. I can either keep stuffing these pearls inside you, or I can put something else in your mouth to keep me from getting my fingers bit again. Which would you prefer?"

"M-mouth!" she gasped, almost unable to control the tone of her voice.

I nodded, then added. “Panties? Where do you keep them? Which floor?”

******

"That was easy." I left the pearls dangling like a tail from her ass and pulled a little bit of gauzy fabric from my pocket: the tiny pair of black lace string thong panties I had retrieved from her underwear stash on the fourth floor. 

"You’re lucky they’re clean, if only I could find the ones you must have been wearing before you ended up like this ... with me."

I grinned at her, then I spread the lips of her pussy and began to push the panties up inside her. An amazing thing, the vagina. She was already so tight and elastic again that I could barely tell she'd already spent so much time with the pearls stretching her.

I drew the thong back out, now sopping with her own wetness. "Open your mouth, Mackayla," I said.

I could tell that she badly wanted to spit a retort at me, but she obeyed, clearly remembering what the alternative could be.

"Wider," I said, tugging at the pearls until one popped out. Her whole body jerked at the sensation, but she opened her lips a little more. Without saying a word, I pulled out the next small, sticky white bead, and this time she whimpered and opened her mouth so wide her jaw must have creaked.

Careful to watch those snapping teeth, I pushed the panties into her mouth, chuckling a little as she wrinkled her nose at the taste of her own juices. 

"Shut," I said, pulling out the third pearl, and she reluctantly obeyed. I drew a small roll of tape from my pocket and sealed her mouth with a black X. The things that I found in my pockets!

"That's better," I smiled, pulling the rest of the pearls out all at once. She bucked hard as I did that, letting out a muffled yelp when I bent to undo her left knee from the chair.

"See what happens when you obey orders like a good girl?" I asked, moving around to untie her right knee. Her mute face showed clear relief; she could stand up straighter now and take some of the pressure off her arms.

Looking around the room I quickly saw what it was I was looking for. Smiling at Mackayla I moved to collect the thin length of metal piping, about a metre long, resting redundantly against the wall and a length of rope that was resting dormant on the wooden side shelf, amongst the scattering of books. It’s truly amazing what you can find in a bookshop … especially when you have the dark magic of the Sinsar Dubh to help you along! 

As I slit the rope into smaller lengths Mackayla watched me nervously, but she wasn't going anywhere. I bent and untied one ankle, keeping it tightly in my grip until I could bring it in front of the chair and tie the rope around both the end of the piping and her delicate right ankle. Doing so forced her to balance precariously on her other foot for a moment, and I got to watch her slender form tense and tremble again until I repeated the process on the other ankle, and then straightened, leering down at her hot, bound body.

"I bet you're pretty tired of this room, hmm, Mackayla?" I said, unclipping her wrist rope from the winch but keeping it pulled tightly upward with my own hand. 

“So, just let me know when you’re ready to talk to me.”


	3. Gimme Some Rope I'm Cummin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cruce tapes Mackayla's mouth with crossed pieces of black duct tape, it becomes evident that for now ate least, that the reasons underpinning his (mis) treatment of her are driven more from his inherent lust than by a true desire to interrogate the poor girl ...

CHAPTER 3 – Gimme Some Rope, I’m Cummin’

MAC

“… Gimme Some Rope, I’m Coming…  
… Gimme Some Rope, I’m Hanging On You …”

He wants the book from me. But even if I wanted to give him what he’s asking for, which I don’t, I’m not sure that I could. Where is the Sinsar Dubh? Is it physically inside me, or does it live in my essence, floating around my bloodsteam, infiltrating my DNA …

It had been ‘downloaded’ into my mother when she was carrying me and then, onwards, into me, into my foetus. 

So was the book in me, or was it a part of me? I knew that I could sense the book’s presence from within, especially when I searched the pool of water inside my body that delivered clarity and calmness to my otherwise manic life.

Cruce has already absorbed the knowledge from the Book, whereas I think I may have been absorbed by it. He knows the First Language. He must have read the book as such, passed the spells and magic up his arms and into his body. That’s not what happened to me. 

So, I knew it was there, in me, somewhere, yet I cannot give Cruce the book under any circumstances, it isn’t in my gift, which made my outlook for being here, the naked captive of this heinous monster, even more bleak.

Does he think getting the book will enable him to sing the Song of Making? Heal the earth and kill all of his competition? Is that how he intends to become King?

Right now, whatever thoughts I have and whatever intent they lead to is immaterial, because Cruce has me tape gagged, and obviously no interest in anything I have to say. It is evidently clear what is driving his actions at this moment … lust … desire … rapacious need … for me … for my body …

I looked at him and saw in his eyes there was fear and hate, and when he spoke, he spoke with knives … these words that I recalled from somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where, floated through my mind!

Cruce was standing, arms folded, leaning against a pillar, shirt off, biceps enlarged and gleaming, his malevolent presence masked with the most beautiful glamour imaginable.

I needed to look away, but I couldn’t. My body was betraying was me and it was being ably supported by my mind. I wanted him, yet I didn’t … I couldn’t … I wouldn’t …

And then, in the eyes of my mind I was outside the church again on that awful day. Dragged down the steps; naked, vulnerable, used …

Not again. Please. Not again. 

I tried to reduce myself to this unfeeling core, tried to find a happy place that I could hide in. I had tried that once before … when I was raped by the Unseelie Princes. I had failed then and had endured with tortuous lucidity everything they had done to me, until my transformation to Pri-ya had commenced.

They’d made me feel powerless, helpless, a useless piece of trash to be desecrated and crushed beneath their heel when they were finished amusing themselves with me. As if I were a plastic Barbie doll to be violated and broken and tossed away. 

Cruce was a part of that!

And, as I’d laid there in the gutter, seeing myself through their eyes, as the complete irrelevance they’d considered me, I’d hungered to be the predator they were. The one standing. The one destroying. I’d thought they’d destroyed me. They hadn’t. They’d made me stronger. But now Cruce, damn him, was about take that away from me …

I felt awkward and stiff, my muscles still protesting against everything he'd done to me. I stumbled as he pulled my body higher by virtue of his own reach, and the hold on the chain connecting my wrists. His strong grip on my bound arms the only thing keeping me upright, and for the first time I was able to look around the room. The mess that had been left by the Guardians. The blood on the floor where I had removed the bullets. The desolation that was palpable in the air given my current situation … I felt nauseous.

I was freed from the chair. He let my wrists go and my arms fell behind my back, my wrists still hard tied.

But added to that my ankles were now secured, separated and held wide by a length of piping acting as a spreader. My positioned had changed but my helplessness continued, in fact it was compounded. 

What the fuck? I had to look twice.

Two metal posts were standing about a metre from the wall to my left, and their length was from floor to ceiling and they were maybe nine feet apart. They were self-standing and upright. What was concerning me the most however was the way that each post connected to the other via a pair of taut ropes. I didn’t have posts in the shop at all … anywhere, especially metal ones such as these. More manifestations from this monster? But why? 

I assumed that I was about to find out …

The upper rope hung just above what would be my head height while the lower one was at hip-height and dotted with large, randomly spaced knots. Each had been stretched to capacity so there was no sag in the lines, and I found myself baffled as to what their purpose was.

“You’re looking at the posts right, Mackayla? Well they’re another gift from me, the Prince that never stops giving.” Cruce took an annoying moment to laugh at his own so-called, mirth.

I recalled seeing metal posts just like these in an old dungeon, in the Unseelie prison, back in the day, before it closed … “ but I guess you’re not really interested in what I have to give, are you my dear Mackayla?”

He was right there, I wasn’t, but I was concerned about the reason he had them rigged up in the way that he had.

"Oh, the ropes came with the knots already tied Mac, so please think of this as a game ... only one that holds far more fun for me, and significantly less fun for you." Cruce smirked, his expression one of gleeful anticipation.

I glared back, irritated by his cryptic explanation. I wanted to snap something sarcastic about his "fun" in response, but thinking about doing that only reminded me of the taste of my own saliva soaked panties in my mouth, and the tape sealing my lips.

He grinned and led me, a firm hand on my bare shoulder, to the nearest post. Using the small amount of strength that I had left I struggled against him somewhat, mostly for show though, as I knew he had the upper hand. 

When he smacked my bare ass, hard and said in the most patronising tone imaginable, "Behave Mackayla,” I regretted my struggle.

I felt my face heat up, furious at him, and when he grabbed both my nipples in his hands and twisted hard, my fury grew even more. The tirade that came out as a long, muffled moan stayed totally inside my head. My back arched and I was raised onto my toes to try to relieve the pressure on my poor nipples. 

He grinned at me, using his grip to pull me closer to the post, and a small wooden block on the floor next to it that I hadn't noticed before. The natural purpose for the block completely evaded me, but it was clear that Cruce had his own intended use for it.

When he stood before me, I gazed straight ahead in my attempts to look ‘through’ him. But try as I might, my damn body betrayed me. His naked, bare chest … his beautiful face and long hair that flowed like a seductive river onto his broad shoulders … shoulders that spanned his seven-foot gorgeous body …

Over the course of my many encounters with Cruce, I’d attempted repeatedly to describe him in my journal, as V’lane, writing down a one dimensional, shallow description of how he looked. 

I’d used words like: terrifyingly beautiful, godlike, possessing inhuman sexuality, deadly eroticism. I’d called him lethal; I’d called him irresistible. I’d cursed him. I’d lusted for him, even writhed beneath him. I’d called his eyes windows to a shining Heaven and I’d called them gates to Hell. 

I’d filled entries with scribblings that later made no sense to me, comprised of columns of antonyms: angelic, devilish; creator, destroyer; fire, ice; sex, death. 

I’d made a list of colours, every shimmering shade of black, raven, blue, and ice known to man. I’d written of oils and spices, scents from childhood, scents from dreams. I’d indulged in lengthy thesaurus-like entries, trying to capture the sensory overload that was Cruce in either incarnation. 

But I’d failed at every turn to truly capture him. Because I’d been describing his body. Not his essence. If I was Good and he was Evil … or perhaps if I was Light and he was Dark … 

Fuck! Mac! Stop! He IS evil … he IS the Dark! This guy has raped you once … he is about to do so again … unless …

Unless what … the fuck … Mac? 

My own little subconscious, judgemental, petite-framed Mini-Mac who lived inside my head was already dishing out the judgement calls!

There had to be a way to stop this … but what the fuck was it, and if I knew what it was how the motherfuckinghell could I mobilise it?

"Put your foot up on the block and straddle the rope." He let go of one of my nipples long enough to reach down and undo one of my ankles from the metal piping that was currently holding my legs spread apart. 

I hesitated for a moment, less out of fear of the ropes and more just out of stubbornness, but he twisted my sensitive teat in his remaining grip and I quickly placed my foot on the wooden block, desperate to avoid the pain coming from my now swollen and tender buds. 

I swung my free leg over the rope, landing awkwardly on the other side, one leg still on the block until he kicked it out from under me. I yelped as he did so, my full weight coming down on the rope between my legs until I went to my tiptoes again.

I tried to quickly move my feet closer together, but he had already tied my erstwhile free ankle to the bar again, keeping them wide apart. In that stance, the rope was just high enough so that I could balance on my toes and have it put firm pressure on my sensitive lips at the very point that they opened my thighs. Cruce reached down and began to tug on my labia, spreading them so the rope slid up between them and pressed against my clit. I squirmed, disliking the feel of the rough braid on my sensitive skin, and he smacked my ass again.

"Hold still. I know how much you love this kind of attention Mackayla, but that's no reason to hump my fingers,” he said, grinning at me. 

I just clenched my teeth and stared stonily ahead as he finished adjusting things to his liking. 

He pulled a tube of lubrication from his pocket and proceeded to smear it liberally around my pussy and ass and then coated the first few inches of rope as well. I was beginning to get a sense of what was expected of me here, and I didn't like it at all. I stared down the length of the rope, at least three metres of it, and gulped when I remembered the knots.

"That's right, Mackayla," Cruce said with a laugh, "you're going to walk this rope for me. And just to make very sure you don't try anything clever ... I have this …" He pulled a chain from his pocket and let it dangle provocatively in front of my face. It was clear what the chain was, and where it was intended to go!

The steel links were heavy duty, much bigger than a small delicate bondage accessory, and he had fastened small alligator clips to each end, and fuck, they looked vicious. Cruce began to prise open one of the torturous ends to reveal the many small serrated teeth. I groaned from under the gag. 

“Nipple clamps Mackayla, I put so much thought and loving care into magicking them here.” The monster laughed as he snapped one of the ends onto my already sore left nipple, making me cry out in pain, the muffled sound making my agony seem more intense.

“Nghhhhhmmmphhhh!” It was the only sound I could manage.

He smiled at the unintelligible nature of my protests and the pain as the teeth bit into me was immense. But my agony was about to compounded, and I groaned when he looped the chain over the upper rope and then tugged downwards, clamping my right nipple as well. It was only just long enough to reach, and even on my tiptoes my breasts were tugged painfully upwards. 

There was no way to get off the ropes now, but it wasn't like I had any incentive to move forward. I stood there, unmoving, planning to wait him out, but as I watched with an ever-increasing look of dismay, Cruce slowly unwound the leather belt from his jeans. 

"You didn't think I'd count on your accommodating nature to get you walking, did you?" he laughed, and then swung the belt against my ass. 

I squealed, lurching forward a step, and then sucked in a breath from the pain and sensations hitting me. My nipples stretched as the chain between them snagged on the rope, and then my breasts bounced as it pulled free and moved along the rope. 

My pussy had begun to moisten as I'd stood there, and the feel of the rope sliding along it was surprisingly good. I began to think that if I was careful, this might not be too bad, but I still didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me trot along like a horse.

"Oh, that's right, I almost forgot," he murmured, leaning close to my ear in that infuriating way. "Make it to the end of the rope and there's a nice, cool drink of water waiting for you." 

I swallowed, suddenly reminded of how dry my mouth was. "That's your carrot, Mackayla," he grinned. "Do I need to remind you of the stick?"

Cruce wound up for another smack at my ass and, hating him more than ever before, I took another step forward. This time my nipple chain slid smoothly, and the vibrations from the braid of the rope traveling through the metal were almost pleasurable. I took another hesitant step, and then another, moaning softly as the texture of the rope slid through my lubricated pussy. My calves were aching from the strain of being on my toes, but I figured I could get through it all quickly, and it wouldn't be too bad. And I really could use that drink.

I kept walking, each step making my pussy more and more wet, until I came to the first knot. I hesitated only a moment, remembering Cruce and his belt, and then stepped forward, letting the knot hit my clit. 

I couldn't help but moan at the sensation, with the rough protuberance rubbing over my sensitive nub, and then the tension of the rope forcing it to pop up into my dripping pussy, teasing the pliant flesh. I steadied myself and then took another step, and gasped as the knot dragged through my pussy and pressed against my asshole, but I kept moving. 

I kept walking, enjoying the slide of the rope, the painful, almost pleasurable pull on my nipples, and wondered if perhaps Cruce had miscalculated. Why had he said this wasn't going to be fun for me?

I turned to look at him, expecting to see disappointment on his face, but instead I saw only anticipation, his gaze focused not on me but on the next knot in the rope. I turned back to look at it and noticed that this one looked damp and glistening, not dry like the previous one. I slowed my steps as I reached it, hesitant suddenly, and Cruce raised his belt again.

I grunted in a clearly annoyed fashion, and he laughed. "Trying to say I don't need to give you any more encouragement? What if I just like watching your pert little ass bounce when I whip it Mackayla, huh?" he asked, grinning as I took the step that would bring me to the next knot.

I felt the same little spark of pleasure as it slid across my clit and into my pussy, and paused a moment, waiting for something terrible to happen. 

There was nothing at first and I again wondered what had made Cruce look so happy - and then a tingle began in my clit. I twitched slightly, taking another step forward so the knot dragged past my ass, and then twitched again, the tingle becoming more of an itch. Within moments my clit was on fire, my pussy beginning to itch and my ass was tingling unbearably.

"Mmmnnnghh?" I groaned, taking another step, hoping the texture of the rope would ease the burning sensation. It didn't. Cruce burst out laughing, looking very pleased with himself, and pulled a small tube of Tchai-Ovna spice from the pocket of his jacket as it lay over the back of a chair.

“Faeries blood, Mackayla. The sap from the Tchai-Ovna plant, the hottest spice known to Faery-kind …”

Fuck! I knew what it was … What I hadn’t known is how much it could burn a clitoris, never having been stupid enough to smear it onto myself.

"I thought this might make things a bit more interesting. You were looking far too complacent a moment ago, this is much more fun! I hope you like how … creative I can be Mackayla? Still, I think I can make it even better." 

I groaned at his words as he stepped towards me, uncapped the tube and squirted some onto his fingers, stepping up behind me and grabbing onto my breasts. 

“Nghhhhhooooooo!” I yelled unintelligibly from under the gag.

I writhed against him, desperate to prevent him from putting it on my nipples, but I was in no position to stop him. Soon my already painfully clamped nipples were burning as badly as my pussy.

I began to hobble along faster, trying in vain to ignore the way my clit was throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and almost cried when I saw the next knot. 

Clenching my jaw, I stepped over it, tensing my body against the sensations I knew were coming. But I still groaned around the panties in my mouth at the feeling of that rough little knot scraping over my swollen, sensitive clit. 

I kept moving, whimpering slightly as I felt the slick juice from my pussy dragging across my asshole as the knot passed through, and focused as best I could on the course in front of me. What had seemed like an easy way to earn a glass of water was beginning to look like pure torture, and I had to force myself to take the next few steps, moaning as my overly-sensitive clit was treated to the intense texture of the rope. 

I could see the next knot approaching and my breath quickened as I realized this one was also damp. I looked up at Cruce, trying not to let him see the fear in my eyes, and he laughed at me.

"Oh, relax. I thought you might need a little more lube by this stage of the course, but I clearly underestimated your pussy's capacity for punishment. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said, grinning at me in that infuriating way he had. I growled something unintelligible behind my gag and kept moving, each step an effort of will. 

I continued to navigate the rope, each knot I encountered wearing down my determination to appear unaffected by Cruce's little game. I was more than halfway through now, my breath coming in desperate little pants, my clit and nipples swollen and aching. 

I was trying to focus on why I was doing this, on how much I hated Cruce, on what I was going to do to that pathetic bastard when I got free, but with every step I found it harder and harder to concentrate on anything but my own growing arousal. I kept hoping that the next knot, or maybe the one after, would provide just that extra little bit of pressure I needed, just a tiny bit more sensation to push me over the edge into an orgasm, but each time I was disappointed.

I could feel a sob starting to build in my chest and I squashed it, furious at myself. I was better than this. I was a fucking O’Connor, a Sidhe-Seer for goodness sake! I wasn't some slutty bimbo who could be broken with a few pieces of rope.

Was I?

I snapped my head up to glare at Cruce again, to show him that he wasn't winning, and found myself looking into a pair of very amused looking eyes. My gaze faltered, flicking ahead to the next knot, and my steps slowed. The next one was red.

"Mmmghhh...." I moaned, staring at it, knowing full well what it would do to me.

"Oh, you noticed that, huh? Well, I don't want to ruin your surprise by telling you what it is." he laughed, stepping forward with the belt. I hesitated still, long enough that he gave me a sharp smack on my ass with it, making me yelp behind the gag. 

"Oh Fuck, Mackayla, I do love how your ass looks with a few belt marks on it," he said, stepping closer and squeezing my cheeks. "Remind me to explore that further when you're done, hmm?"

I ignored him, taking a minuscule step forward towards the knot, hoping that would buy me some time before he hit me again. Before I could take another step, he whacked me once more, this time even harder. "Move, Mackayla." he ordered, raising the belt again, "or I'll start whipping those beautiful tits."

My eyes widened, horrified at the idea of my already sensitive breasts being subjected to his belt, and I hobbled forward as best I could, cringing as my clit made contact with the sinister looking red knot. 

I tried to move past it as fast as I could, hoping that whatever was on it wouldn't have time to rub off on me but before it was even behind me a slow, aching burn had begun in my already tormented and engorged nub. By the time I had taken another step, my entire pussy and ass were on fire, my clit feeling like it was going to explode. 

I screamed into the gag, arching my back and trying to rub against the rope, hoping to remove whatever it was that was burning into me. All I accomplished was to grind it in further, the rough rope fibres scraping between my opened labia. 

As I continued my desperate struggles a distant corner of my mind recognized that I was humping the rope like a sex-starved whore, but I didn't care. My entire existence had narrowed down to the area between my legs, every nerve ending screaming out in pain and pleasure. I wanted to sob with the agony of it and yet I was so turned on I could barely stand it. At that moment I would have done almost anything to cum.

I don't know how long I stood there grinding my pussy into the rope before I got a hold on myself again. Cruce was watching me avidly, a large bulge in his pants showing how he felt about the situation. I stared at him, his beautiful body and gorgeous features with tears running down my face, my body shaking as I tried to control myself, and he smiled, an approving sort of look on his face as he slowly lifted the belt.

"Nggghhooooo plssseeeee!" I cried out, pleading with my eyes as he swung at my behind. My hips jerked as he made contact, my body arching from the combination of the pain in my bottom and pleasure, as my exquisitely sensitive pussy slid over the rope. 

My nipples throbbed as the clamps bit into them and I lost my balance, the soles of my feet hitting the floor and my pussy landing full force on the rope. I screamed again, struggling to get back onto my toes, fighting to stay lucid as a tide of pain and pleasure overwhelmed me. I wobbled for a moment before standing straight, panting with the effort and strain, staring at him wild-eyed.

"Poor little Mackayla," he grinned, Cruce’s expression one of almost feral hunger. "A few drops of hot spice and you turn into a blubbering slut who humps inanimate objects. I thought you were tougher than that, huh," glancing up I noticed how wide his grin was.

I moaned, his words touching something inside me in a way I wasn't expecting. Shame welled up in me, a hot feeling of humiliation tinged with a weird sort of arousal that I didn't want to examine any further. 

I continued to stare at him, knowing that if I didn't start walking again soon, he was going to whip me with the belt, and yet I was still struggling to work up the nerve to take the next step. 

I wasn't sure how much more I could handle and through the fog in my brain I knew I was dangerously close to giving him what he wanted. In fact, a little part of me, that secret little voice inside me, almost welcomed the idea. 

To submit to him, to tell him everything he wanted and let him do whatever he wished with my body. To let him fuck me, whip my ass with the belt, twist my nipples while I moaned and writhed under him … that shameful little corner of my personality wanted it. It was that thought, more than anything, which snapped me back into reality.

I gathered what little shreds of my pride I could find, stiffening my back, glaring at him, and he grinned at me, seeming annoyingly pleased by my show of resistance. I shifted my gaze back to the rope, counting only 2 more knots until the end, and began to hobble again, awkwardly adjusting my gait to the pipe spreading my ankles, groaning despite myself, as my inflamed clit dragged slowly and endlessly against the rope. 

I willed myself to ignore it, shutting my mind to the constant tug on my nipples, the sopping moisture oozing from my pussy, the overwhelming burn of the Tchai-Ovna making my clit into a swollen little bundle of raw nerve endings. Each step was torture, a mix of pain and pleasure so profound I thought I might pass out, and yet I kept going. I wasn't going to submit to this fucker. Cruce, of all people... that bastard, he was not going to defeat me.

I stepped over the penultimate knot, a strangled scream emerging from the gag as I went, but otherwise I gave no sign of the way it turned my insides to jelly, of my almost uncontrollable urge to grind my pussy into its touch. 

I began to chant to myself, in my head, listing off ways of maiming and injuring Cruce, making a Mantra out of it. I imagined shoving a whole bottle of hot spice up his perverted ass, even as my own bottom itched and burned against the knot, slick with my own juices. 

I kept going still, knowing as I did so that I was moving on pure will alone, every cell in my body desperate for something, anything, to make this torment stop. I approached the last knot with a sense of victory in my mind, a feeling that I had somehow triumphed over Cruce, until I looked more closely at it.

It was bright red.

A sob broke from my throat, my body beginning to shake, my steely resolve crumbling. I couldn't, I just couldn't walk across it. 

My clit felt so swollen I thought it might burst, the nerve endings raw from the combination of the rope and hot spice. I turned to Cruce, pleading again, willing to do almost anything to avoid this last knot. 

He grinned at me, a slow, malicious grin that made me cry even harder as he lifted the belt and brought it up square on the underside of my left breast. I threw my head back and screamed into the gag, my breast bouncing and then yanking against the nipple clamp, my poor swollen bud throbbing in protest. He swung again, this time catching the other breast and in a desperate attempt to avoid any more pain to my poor, sensitive breasts, I stepped across the knot.

My clit reacted almost immediately, the hot sauce grinding itself into already tormented flesh, and I shrieked, the mixture of pain and need making me literally see stars. 

I felt my pussy contract suddenly, a hard, sharp sensation as I came, my back arching in orgasmic pleasure, my head snapping back. It was unlike any climax I'd ever experienced!

The orgasm ripped through me like lust fuelled wild-fire, my whole body consumed by it, and when it was over, I was left panting and unsatisfied, so turned on and with nothing to leverage my release against it was like I had never cum at all. 

I stared at Cruce, a fixed expression of loathing and hate on my face, my muscles trembling, my body soaked in sweat, and he began to clap, a slow, mocking sound that made my face heat in shame.

"Well, that was entertaining Mackayla. I suppose you've earned your reward now, haven't you?"

He stepped forward, sliding his fingers down and lightly stroked them over my still burning labia. I gasped, unconsciously pushing forward into his touch, wanting to ease the fiery sensation. 

Then, despite his very deliberate gagging of my mouth, Cruce spoke giving me the most infernal choice to which I could not reply.

"So ... Mackayla. Do you want that glass of water in your mouth, or do you want it to cool down your pussy?"


End file.
